


chosen blessings

by exarite



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breeding, Butt Plugs, Creampie, Established Relationship, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Will Graham, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, birth control tampering, but otherwise consensual sex, non-consensual impregnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-01 07:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21431632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exarite/pseuds/exarite
Summary: Post-fall, Hannibal finally has Will as his bonded and his mate. It’s everything he ever wanted, and yet, something is still lacking.Their new life has no place for a pup, Will says.Hannibal understands the sentiment. He just doesn’t agree.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 47
Kudos: 537
Collections: Hannigram Kinkmeme





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: I frequently referred to this fic as the **"non-con impreg fic"** while writing it. That's literally what this about. Hannibal non-consensually impregnating Will, lying and tampering with birth control. If any of that sounds like it might trigger you, or if you just find it disgusting, then **PLEASE don't read it!!!!** the sex otherwise is consensual though, just the impregnation aspect that's noncon.
> 
> Filling my own prompt from the kinkmeme: Hannibal is intent on breeding Will and giving him a child, whether Will wants it or not.

It takes around seven days for suppressants to fully flush itself out of the system.

On the fourth day after they kill a Dragon, Hannibal wakes up, inhales, and smiles.

He turns his head, the pain in his gut a sharp, ever-present ache, the painkillers not quite strong enough to overwhelm it. Will is there on the other side of the bed, as he has been the past few days, and his face is lax with sleep. There's a pinch in his brow from the pain Will, too, no doubt feels even unconscious, and there is gauze that covers the majority of the right side of his face.

Hannibal closes his eyes and inhales once more, his mouth opening to get the full breadth of it on his tongue, down his lungs, and he takes a moment just to appreciate the new complexity of Will's scent. It's still recognizable, still very much Will, but there's a faint undertone of something distinctly Omega, something sweet. Barely there, but Hannibal's nose is stronger than even other purebred Alphas, and the tinge of it is enough for him. He knows it will only get stronger as the days pass by without another dose.

A low grunt alerts him that Will is awake, and Hannibal opens his eyes to meet Will's narrowed gaze. Will doesn't say anything to him, just stares at him unabashedly, drinking him in, the same way Hannibal had just been doing to him. Will hasn't said much at all the past few days, but Hannibal forgives him. It's very hard to talk when your cheek is being held tight with stitches and your tongue is healing from almost being sliced in half.

Will grunts again. He doesn't need to speak. There's a sardonic tilt of his eyebrow, his features so expressive even with one side impaired, and that, plus their connection, is enough for Hannibal to hear the question he doesn't ask.

"Your suppressants are wearing off," Hannibal tells him simply. There's no need to affect concern when there isn't. Especially when Will can see the lack of it before Hannibal can even try.

Will closes his eyes and nods. He, too, looks unconcerned, and Hannibal's lips curl in pleasure.

"I can ask Chiyoh—"

A low, annoyed sound from Will and Hannibal stops. Will shakes his head. He doesn't even open his eyes.

"Don't lie," Will slurs, his voice thickened and almost unintelligible. "You prefer it this way."

This way. Will, off suppressants, smelling purely of himself without the sharp chemical tang. Of course Hannibal prefers it this way.

They don't discuss it any further. Hannibal only wakes up, a few days later, to the tiny room of the ship they've commandeered, and finds it filled with Will's sweet scent.

He breathes it in through his mouth, savoring the taste of it. He's never smelled anything more lovely. He never wants to smell anything else.

That wasn't the moment, though, when Hannibal consciously decided on his current plan of action.

That moment came much later.

*

It takes around two to four weeks for an Omega to experience a withdrawal heat from lack of suppressants. The same thing happens with women when they go off birth control, although it's withdrawal bleeding rather than a heat.

The difference between a withdrawal heat and a true heat is that withdrawal heats almost never result in pregnancy. Additionally, Omegas have reported that they're less intense and that they last shorter, the heat not debilitating them and rendering them useless in polite society. Hannibal has found, in his experience, that there's a slight difference in smell, too, although he can assume that most people won't be able to smell the difference between a withdrawal heat and a true one.

And so, a month after they kill a Dragon, Hannibal wakes up hard.

At this point in time, Hannibal and Will have not done anything beyond lingering touches and sideways looks. Mostly because they're still recovering, Hannibal's abdomen still tender, the scars on their bodies healing but raw.

Will going into heat now, even a false one, is…inconvenient. Or convenient, depending on who you're asking.

Hannibal knows that Will is aware of his own approaching heat.

And, Hannibal muses thoughtfully, Will knows that Hannibal knows too. Hannibal can't be anything but aware of the fact, not with his sense of smell. It's made exceedingly, ever more clear when Will sits across him, his eyes dark and daring.

Taunting, in the way that Will always is. Smug, almost, and curious.

Maybe a few years back, Will would be stinking of fear, of uncertainty, of approaching a heat while in the presence of an Alpha, but that Will is long dead. Will smells like nothing but heady, sweet anticipation, his arousal visible in the tent of his pants, the way he shifts and sighs. The seat of his pants must be wet.

Hannibal doesn't mind giving Will the satisfaction of seeing him affected. He tilts his head, and deliberately, he inhales. His eyes close and his lips part, until the scent of Will sits heavy at the back of his throat.

"Do you have a plan?" Hannibal asks.

Will rubs his neck, his hand sliding over his tender glands. It's deliberately provoking. The scar on his face makes the corner of his right cheek pull up into a perpetual sneer, and when Will smiles at him, it only makes it worse. He's beautiful.

"Do you?" Will returns. It's all he needs to say.

Hannibal stands. He prowls the short distance between him and Will and stops, right in front of the other man.

Will tilts his head up to meet his eyes, exposing the long length of his neck. He raises an eyebrow. Daring, daring, ever daring. Beneath him, Will's hands slide against the armrests of his chair, tightening at the ends of it to ground himself. His hips rise and fall in a single motion, unconsciously trying to present for Hannibal.

"I won't have you during your heat," Hannibal tells him.

Will's eyes narrow. He opens his mouth, but Hannibal interrupts him, reaching out with both hands to cradle Will's face.

"At least," Hannibal continues, "not for the first time."

Will scoffs. "You've broken so many barriers between us, and this, you keep up?" His smile turns sly. Some might mistake the scar on his cheek as the reason as to why he looks so mocking, but Hannibal knows better.

"Besides," Will purrs, all seductive Omega, the ultimate bait. His legs spread and his head tilts to the side, exposing the long line of his neck, classic appeasement gestures designed purely to make an Alpha's teeth itch with the need to claim. Hannibal is aware of the psychology, and yet he finds himself weak to it still.

"I'm not in heat, yet," Will murmurs—_ goads, _ and Hannibal snarls. He reels Will in with the press of both hands, and Will goes, Will follows.

They drag each other into bed and it feels like something inevitable. Like there's no other way for it to have gone.

*

"Fuck me—harder," Will demands with a harsh gasp, arching into his grip, hips hitched up as he pushes back on Hannibal's cock. Hannibal does.

"Come on, knot me," Will hisses, his nails digging into the sheets as he scrabbles for purchase, mouth ajar as he cries out with each slap of skin against skin, Hannibal's knot swelling and pulling at his rim. Hannibal does.

"Yes," Will moans, loud and unrestrained, the most beautiful thing Hannibal has ever heard. "_ Breed me _."

Hannibal's hips stutter, and he grunts in surprise, his Alpha hindbrain lighting up with desire and need and yes, _ yes _, breed him—Will squeezes around his cock, his walls tight around Hannibal's knot, and Hannibal spills inside him.

He bites down on Will’s neck, irrevocably marking him as his. Bonding them, as they should have been before. Will seizes, crying out, almost bucking him off. Hannibal only digs his teeth in and laps at the blood that spills from Will’s neck.

Will moans, satisfied at the new bond in between them, at the flood of hot come staining his insides and pooling where he's supposed to fertile. His pelvis tilts, an unconscious gesture to facilitate the breeding process, and Hannibal's grip tightens on his hip, a low satisfied snarl escaping him.

He _ wants _to breed Will. He wants to fuck a baby into him, wants to see Will's belly swell with their pup. His instincts don't care that logically, Will can't be bred right now, not for a lack of trying.

Hannibal drapes his body over Will's, covering him and keeping him close, nothing between them. He wraps his arm around Will's waist and cups his belly in his large hand, not bothering to disguise the reverent way he strokes it. He nuzzles the side of Will's bloody neck, a pleased rumble vibrating through his chest.

Hannibal can imagine it so clearly now. Will's belly ripe with child, the teacup coming together. A pup with Will's curls. It's partly hormones, that base part in him that's aching to tie and breed, to continue his line with his perfect mate. It's mostly not.

He tells Will so, low and sweet, unable to do anything but clutch onto Will as he waits for his knot to go down. His hips rock back and forth in small motions, pushing his seed deeper to where Will's receptive. He tells Will how lovely he'd look with child, how perfect their pup would be.

This is the moment that Hannibal will pinpoint later, as to the start of his obsession.

Will arches beneath him, writhing as he sighs in tired satisfaction. The false heat has abated, at least for now, the fires momentarily doused from the knotting and the Alpha seed filling him up.

Will rests his cheek on the pillow. His ass is still tilted up, still steadily clenching around Hannibal's knot, milking it for all the seed it's worth. He smiles at Hannibal, wry and pleased.

"That was just play talk, right?" Will asks him. He sounds amused. It doesn't fit with what Hannibal's feeling right now, this swell of helpless want, a deep ache that he knows can’t be satisfied with simple rutting.

The slight smile that Will is wearing falls, and he stares at Hannibal, his eyes dark and intense. "The last thing I want right now is to be pregnant," Will tells him, voice low and serious now. His eyes narrow. His cheeks are still flushed with a healthy red, his eyes clear now from the heat haze that made him beg to be bred, only to so cruelly take it back.

Hannibal stalls, his hand clenching where it's still rested across Will's stomach. He reluctantly moves it, clutches instead onto Will's hip. (Childbearing hips, he thinks, wide and ample.)

"Of course," he says. "I understand."

Will relaxes, and he smiles. “I’m going to bite you back,” he announces, so, so tenderly. It’s not a question, not a matter of Hannibal letting him or not. 

Hannibal tilts his neck and Will does as he’s promised. It’s hard, immediately breaking the skin, and Hannibal sighs in ecstasy as Will marks him.

*

Suppressants and most other hormonal birth control work the same way. Pills, the injection, the implant—all of them stop ovulation by releasing hormones that trick the body into thinking that it's already pregnant.

It's why Omegas on hormonal suppressants don't go into Heat. A true Heat is impossible without an egg, and thus suppressants double as birth control for Omegas. There are, of course, other forms of birth control. Barrier methods such as condoms and diaphragms, spermicides, even the rhythm method which is obviously ineffective during Heat sex.

It's a misconception that Omegas are only fertile during their Heat. It's the same lack of Sex Ed that leads people to believe that women can't get pregnant from sex during menstruation and that the rhythm method and pulling out is an effective form of birth control.

On average, sperm can survive in the female body for up to five days. After ovulation, the egg lives for around 12-24 hours before disintegrating if left unfertilized.

Sperm in an Omega, on the other hand, can survive for up to seven days. Longer, if sperm is from a particularly virile and compatible Alpha. Hannibal has read multiple studies, all of which point that an Omega's body is much more welcoming. Their insides are not as acidic, making for an overall more hospitable environment than the female vagina. Even their eggs live longer—an average of 24-48 hours.

If Hannibal was a different Alpha, he would say that there's no stronger proof that Omegas are meant to be bred than the science itself. He wouldn't, of course, 'meant to' is such a discourteous way to put it when childless Omegas have accomplished plenty.

Others would even say that in a competition of fertility—in the ability to conceive and bear young—Omegas would win.

It's a flawed comparison. The advantage that women have over Omegas is their monthly cycle. Women are gifted with 12 times a year they can conceive, versus the 2-3 times a year that Omegan heats offer.

It only means that Hannibal must make the most out of Will's.

Will's lack of suppressants would have normally pushed him into Heat much earlier, but the combination of injury, a lack of a stable home, and the years on suppressants have messed with his hormones. Hannibal isn't surprised that it takes an actual safe house, almost four months after they kill the Dragon, before Will's scent thickens into that distinctive note of an Omega on the cusp of a true Heat. The scent doesn't even begin to compare with his false Heat only months earlier.

It's richer, practically electric in the fertile promise it holds. Hannibal finds himself frequently drawn to Will's side, greedy for the taste of it on the back of his tongue. He can't help but run his hands through Will's hair, down his scarred neck, and over his glands, soaking him in Hannibal's scent until it's unmistakable that Will is spoken for. Pure instinct, but no less embarrassing for someone who prides themselves so highly on their control.

Will's incoming Heat has certainly explained his snappish, bordering on boorish behavior the past few days, his unwillingness to even be touched, his pickiness with his food. Hannibal should have expected it. Stress has delayed his heat for long enough.

Hannibal doesn't snap back when Will snarls and bares his pretty little teeth at him, only rises to his full height and clasps the back of Will's neck, massaging the pressure points there to make him yield. When Will pounces on him, tries to take control during sex, Hannibal flips him over and holds him down, makes him sob and cry and beg for more. Never enough to hurt, just enough to prove his strength.

Hannibal starts cooking Will's favorites, proves his worth and superiority as a mate. When Will brings a stray dog home, mangy and dirty and half-feral, Hannibal does nothing but help him wash the damn thing. He feeds it, bends to Will's whims. He doesn't even complain when it chews on one of his shoes.

Dominance and submission in equal measure. Power and provision—the two things an Omega aches for, especially near their Heat. Courting, in simple terms. All that's missing is a song and dance. Hannibal accepts that although it's normal for mated pairs to no longer go through this, for courting behavior to die down once bitten and marked—Will has never been quite normal. He will court Will endlessly and repetitively every time he's in Heat if it means he's allowed to be the one to see him through it.

Or, he thinks, maybe their courting dance didn't count before. This is, after all, the first of Will's true Heats that they're spending together. It would be an interesting topic to study if Hannibal was willing to share the details of Will to the world. He isn't.

It takes less than a day for Will to switch from abrasive and aggressive to pliant and sweet. He presses up against Hannibal as if it hurts to be away, curves his body towards his Alpha and clings on. As if Hannibal would ever leave him now. A nest starts to form out of their pillows and sheets, Hannibal's sleep clothes mixed in the pile. Hannibal never sees Will make it, but it forms nonetheless. They sleep in it until it smells like Hannibal and Will. Perfect and right.

More and more, Will tilts his neck often to reveal the scarred marks in the shape of Hannibal's teeth. It’s appeasement and a reminder—I'm yours. You're mine. Even his voice is different. It’s higher, matching the temptation of his scent. Biological and behavioral changes combined, both designed to make him unbearably attractive.

He's a fisherman satisfied at his ample catch, working to keep it on the line. Hannibal can imagine him licking his fingers in smug pleasure.

Every day, Will's heat comes nearer and nearer. Finally, Hannibal has to address it.

Will is splayed out across the couch, lax and loose. His head is on Hannibal's lap, his eyes half-lidded, and a steady purr has been vibrating through his chest. Cephy, their dog, is napping on Will’s lap, curled up tight into a ball and Will’s hand is resting lightly on her back. It pleases something deep in Hannibal, knowing that his mate is so content and comfortable with his presence. 

"Your Heat," he says bluntly after they eat dinner. He won't bother to mince words.

At Hannibal's voice, Will looks up, his eyes fluttering and his purr rumbling to a stop. He merely hums in assent and acknowledgment.

Hannibal raises an eyebrow. There are questions that need to be asked, things that need to be addressed.

Will huffs. He narrows his eyes at Hannibal and tilts his head, reaching up to cup Hannibal's jaw.

"I took the liberty of asking Chiyoh for PHP," Will assures, stroking the line of Hannibal's chin with his thumb. His eyes stray, and he rubs at Hannibal's scent gland. "She said she'll send it over. It'll be here before my Heat even starts."

Hannibal resists the urge to curl his lip in disdain. PHP. Post-Heat Pills. It’s the Omega's version of Plan B, except it functions more similarly to the older version, the combination of mifepristone and misoprostol. Women's Plan B uses levonorgestrel now, and thus only works before fertilization. It prevents ovulation from happening and thickens the cervical mucus, limiting the number of sperm that can travel past the cervix.

Plan B is ineffective with Omegas because at the height of an Omega's heat, around the second or third day, ovulation has already occurred. By the time that a Heat ends on the fifth or sixth or seventh day, the egg is already fertilized and implanted.

Plan B is an emergency contraceptive. PHP, to put it simply, is an abortifacient.

Hannibal sees their use and the need, and he has no particular feelings towards PHP. But right now, he detests them.

"You didn't consider condoms? Or a different method of birth control, perhaps?" Hannibal asks. His voice is steadier and calmer than he had expected.

"I don't trust either of us with condoms during my Heat," Will scoffs, so beautifully dismissive. "Not right now. Not when I don't know how bad it'll be. I'd be surprised if my Heat doesn't trigger a Rut in you, and our hindbrains will be too obsessed with breeding to care for condoms."

It's not a misplaced concern. Hannibal was counting on it. 

Will shrugs then before he continues, "This is the safest option. I just want to be sure, Hannibal. This life has no place for a pup."

"I understand," Hannibal says. He does, truly. He just doesn't agree.

*

They have sex during Will's Heat. Hannibal's disappointment isn't enough to stop him from glutting himself on Will. Hannibal knots him multiple times, fills him with his seed until Will's belly is swelling at the end of his Heat. Hannibal had almost forgotten the unlikelihood of knocking Will up, lost as he was to the heat of Rut, to the mechanics of impregnation itself. But the sight of Will's belly, bulging with his come and so similar looking to an Omega fat with pups, only drives in the fact that this Heat won't take. That there won't be a pup.

Hannibal has never wanted for a child, not until Will and Abigail—_ “We’re her fathers now.” _Even after Abigail, the urge still remains. A hole in an otherwise perfect existence with his perfect mate.

When the haze of Heat dies down days later, both of them sated and their rational minds returned to them, Will rolls away from him and their scent-drenched nest.

Hannibal watches, his eyes dark as Will reaches into their bedside table and pulls out a single packet of PHP. It crinkles, loud in the silence of their bedroom. Will pops it open, the pink pill innocuous in his palm. He tilts his head up and swallows it dry, rendering every knot and every bit of seed that Hannibal has spilled inside him useless.

Hannibal forces his hands to unclench from their sheets, his expression placid when Will finally comes back to him. Will snuggles into his chest, looking for all the world that everything is perfect. He falls asleep like that, his breathing slow and even.

Hannibal stays awake, his hand stroking mindlessly down Will's back, his hip, before he moves to stroke Will's belly.

He thinks, and he plans.

*

"Good morning," Will greets him. He leans in for a kiss that Hannibal grants him, his eyes closing as he keeps Will pressed near. "Do you have any plans for today?"

"Just a visit to town. No need to accompany me," Hannibal murmurs against his mouth, tender and sweet, before he nips at Will's bottom lip, his jaw, tucking his face into Will's neck to inhale the last vestiges of Will's heat. Will shivers against him.

"Be safe. I'll eagerly await your return," Will replies. Hannibal knows it's meant to sound dry, maybe even sarcastic, but the statement only comes as genuine. Hannibal smiles and rewards him with another kiss, stroking down his neck to cup and squeeze until Will is pliant and soft, the beginnings of a satisfied purr erupting through his throat.

They part, Will going into their bathroom to bathe. Hannibal watches him go. When the shower starts, Hannibal rises and makes his way to the desk tucked into the corner.

He pulls out a prescription pad that he's kept for emergencies, for when over the counter medicine is not enough. His heartbeat is even as he writes.

> Clomid
> 
> 50mg
> 
> #10, 1 daily


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, if u have any problems or find non-consensual impregnation triggering, please stop reading. take care of yourself.

There are multiple ways to induce ovulation and thus a Heat.

Fertility doctors tend to recommend Alpha semen and scent, first, but Will is already exposed enough to Hannibal's scent and come on a daily basis that there won't be much difference. Will smells more and more like Hannibal every day, the remnants of Hannibal's seed still staining his insides, his mouth, their frequent scenting stinking up their shared area. No one could smell Will and not smell Hannibal as well.

There are specific chemicals in Alpha semen that an Omega responds to. Biologically, something in them adapts to become more fertile, more receptive in the presence of a virile mate. They're meant to breed. Ingesting Alpha semen via the mouth works well enough, but much of the potency is lost in the digestive process and filtered out. Keeping Alpha semen tucked under the tongue of an Omega is another method, effective due to the direct absorption into the bloodstream, but hard to sneak and justify.

The most effective method by far is still the natural way. Semen given through penetrative sex is absorbed more readily through the anus, more direct and with less loss from stomach degradation.

Aside from the method of ingestion, factors in the effectivity of the Alpha Semen Method include the age of the omega, potency and virility of Alpha semen used, and the level of bonding between the Alpha-Omega pair. While Alpha semen donations can be used in Omegas hoping to induce ovulation, it is preferred that Alpha semen comes from the Omega's mate. This is, of course, an option unavailable to Beta-Omega or Omega-Omega couples hoping to conceive, and thus they must content themselves with Alpha semen donations.

Women and Omegas are the same in the way that in their 30's, fertility starts to decline until finally, they reach menopause. Will is already 39. The thought of it brings a fevered sort of urgency in Hannibal's actions, the base of his skull tingling with the urge to knot and breed and secure a pup before Will is unable.

Will's age, and the years he has spent on suppressants—even with his otherwise healthy Heat that had just passed—are all factors that other doctors would refer to before they declare that the Alpha Semen Method would not be very effective.

But for now, so soon after Will's Heat, this is the only method that Hannibal has in hand. He stores the pills for the right time.

*

Hannibal snarls out his release, his teeth bared as he pushes his cock deep into Will. He can feel his cock nudge against Will's cervix, low and firm as it is when he's not near heat. He can't knot Will, not right now outside Will's heat and his rut, but it's not for a lack of trying.

Hannibal keeps his pelvis pressed against Will's ass, his hips twitching with every spill of his seed. Beneath him, Will only shudders, soft sounds of pleasure unmuffled. When he turns his head to look up at Hannibal, his eyes are half-lidded, heavy with his satisfaction.

Carefully, Hannibal reaches over the bedside table and pulls out a plug. He keeps Will's hips hitched up as he withdraws, and Will grumbles, his legs spreading further.

"Stay," Hannibal orders, squeezing Will's side. He doesn't wait for Will to say anything before he starts to insert the plug, catching the bits of his come that had begun to leak out.

Will lets out a small gasp, his hand flying back to hold onto Hannibal's. He doesn't push Hannibal away, just clutches onto him as Hannibal slowly slides the plug inside to keep his seed where it's meant to be. The plug is solid, large enough to compensate for how stretched Will already is from Hannibal's cock, but not large enough that it's uncomfortable for him.

Hannibal smiles, patting his ass and giving it one last fond stroke. The depth of the visceral satisfaction he feels at the knowledge that Will is plugged full of him is unexpected, but not surprising.

"Let's have dinner, my love."

"Really?" Will gives him a bemused, almost annoyed look, but he rolls over and follows as Hannibal gets up, slipping on soft, well-worn pants. It's nothing that Hannibal has given him. Pajamas, slacks, shorts, Will isn't picky. He dresses for his own aesthetics as much as he does for Hannibal's now, and Hannibal simply reaps the benefits.

The whole meal, Will can't seem to stop squirming in his seat. His cheeks are flushed red with arousal and pleasure, his mouth open in an almost moan as he rocks back and forth to push the plug against his prostate. He isn't even trying to be subtle, the satisfaction gleaming in his eyes evident from across the table, the movement of his hips more so.

Hannibal finds himself useless, distracted, his spoon hovering near his mouth. All he can do is stare at the flutter of Will's eyelashes, the bitten-red quality of his lips, the long length of his neck as Will tilts it and pets delicately over his own scent glands and the scar placed upon them.

Will stares back at him with his eyes at half-mast, all smug amusement at turning the tables and bringing Hannibal so low. Hannibal's surprised he isn't purring.

Hannibal watches as Will pushes the chair back a bit before he drags his hand from his neck down to his chest, all the way to cup his thigh. If he only moves his hand a little, he'd be touching his own cock. It's hard, straining against the material of Will's pants, and it takes a Herculean effort for Hannibal to lift his gaze back up to Will's face.

Will smirks, the picture of self-satisfaction. Hannibal's cruel boy, glorious in all the power of Hannibal's desire for him. Hannibal's attention is wholly on him, only the barest minimum left towards the dinner he had prepared. Hannibal had long accepted the depths of his desire for Will, and there's no use denying it, even when Will takes full advantage.

Hannibal gives him a slow smile back, relaxing in the familiarity of his desire, his pleasure at the erotic sight of Will so aroused. He has no doubt that if Will wishes it, he could orgasm again purely from the stimulation that the plug provides. The fact that he isn't says plenty. He's choosing instead to seduce his Alpha—the fisherman and the bait, all in one.

Hannibal has no problems with that. He enjoys watching.

It isn't safe to wear a plug for so long, despite how much Hannibal enjoys Will all plugged up and squirming. He gives it an hour, two max before he takes pity on Will (and himself) and removes it after dinner.

All the waiting, all the time that Hannibal spent just watching, it only makes Will all the more sweeter when Hannibal finally bends him over the table and pulls down his pants.

Will arches his back, beautiful under Hannibal's hand as he laughs. "You're desperate for me, aren't you?" Will croons.

Hannibal can't deny it. He bares his teeth in a smile. "Always, darling."

Will laughs again, spreading his legs wider. His shoulders are tight, his thighs too, and the sigh he makes at the first touch of Hannibal's hand against the plug in his ass is wonderful and sweet. Hannibal kisses it from his mouth and devours it whole.

Will doesn't complain about chafing or soreness, even as Hannibal fucks into him bare and without further preparation. He's wet by Hannibal's own semen and his own slick, yowling under Hannibal's hard thrusts. Hannibal fucks him into the table, uncaring about the bang of the edges against Will's hips. It'll only leave beautiful bruises against his pelvis. The liquid heat of his insides makes Hannibal's instincts light up, his canines sore with the bone-deep urge to bond and mate and  _ breed _ .

Hannibal ruts in against Will and comes again, snarling into his shoulder as he bites down. Will moans underneath him, his nails scraping against their dining table, his ass clenching around Hannibal's dick as he follow Hannibal into orgasm. When Hannibal pulls out, the sight of his semen dripping out of Will only serves to make him restless and angry.

He keeps a hand on Will's back, pressing his chest on the table, and industriously fingers his come back into Will, back where it belongs. He presses against Will's tender, abused prostate and Will jolts against his fingers, crying out in protest.

"Shh," Hannibal murmurs, stroking a hand down his back to soothe him. Will groans and whines, spreading his legs even further. His spent cock twitches weakly where it's pressed against the table, and Hannibal's chest rumbles in pleasure.

"Hannibal," Will complains, voice cracking.

Hannibal doesn't stop, only keeps sliding his fingers back into Will, making sure not a single drop of his seed is wasted. He doesn't stop sliding his fingers against Will's prostate, rubs it until Will is shaking and coming apart again at his touch. Will's thighs clench, tears brimming at his eyes, and his voice goes hoarse as he sobs out his release.

Hannibal pets him through it, gentling him with a hand at the back of his neck.

When Will finally recovers, twitching every so often, Hannibal pulls out his fingers.

"Okay, that's enough," Will grunts. He weakly pushes Hannibal away, wiggling around as he hitches his pants back onto his hips. He glares at Hannibal, but there's no real heat to it, only a tired pleasure.

Hannibal hums and kisses him.

_ Patience _ , he soothes himself as Will slips away from his grasp. Hannibal is going to breed Will, thoroughly and completely. He just needs to wait a little bit more.

*

By and large, the Alpha Semen Method proves ineffective in inducing ovulation and Heat in Will Graham.

Hannibal isn't overtly concerned. He had expected and planned for its failure. It had been a slim chance to begin with, and it's why Hannibal had prepared early on with Clomid.

With women, Clomid is usually the first fertility treatment recommended by doctors. Compared to other fertility drugs, Clomid is more readily available and doesn't need to be injected. It's effective enough, stimulating ovulation 80% of the time in women after five days of the pill, and only has minimal side-effects.

Doctors that specialize in Omegan fertility, however, warn against the unprescribed use of Clomid on Omegas. The few key differences in women and Omegas mean that Omegan biology can react strangely to Clomid, the side effects sometimes more adverse. It's a relatively rare case, but it happens, nonetheless.

It's a necessary risk, one that Hannibal has weighted and deemed necessary. Hannibal is there to make sure that the side effects aren't too concerning, and if they are, that they're immediately addressed.

Hannibal's chance comes only two months after Will's Heat.

"You're sick," Hannibal states. He presses a hand over Will's forehead and Will leans into it, releasing a low breath. His eyes are just slightly glazed, and his sniffle is awful pathetic. A simple cold he has no doubt caught from the fishermen he has been spending his time with. He has come home often enough smelling of sea salt, the taste of it over his natural scent interesting and fresh.

"It's just a cold," Will dismisses, even as he rubs at his nose.

"You don't have a fever, at least."

At Hannibal's raised eyebrows and tone, Will looks up and scowls. "If you say 'I told you so'," he grouches, but doesn't continue his threat.

"I did ask you to bring a coat when you fished," Hannibal replies, his voice mild. He smiles, fondly amused at the pinch of Will's features, and tilts his head to pepper kisses over Will's beard and nose. Will tolerates it, pushing him away after far too few kisses to sneeze and sniffle once more.

"Do you want to catch my cold?" Will accuses. He glares at Hannibal, but it softens as his mouth twitches into a smile.

"We do have cold medicine," Hannibal tells him. He reaches up to stroke Will's hair, petting him gently as Will turns his face away to cover his mouth and cough.

"You get to take care of me. Pamper me. See me sick." Will states all of this with a casual air, his eyebrows raised, even as his nose and eyes are red. Hannibal feels seen, clean through. Will releases an amused breath and shakes his head. "You're enjoying it already."

"I always enjoy you," Hannibal says honestly, and he didn't know it was possible, but Will reddens even more, his lips twisting. He lets Hannibal kiss him, and Will's gaze is dark and intense.

"Here," Hannibal says later as he hands the first of the Clomid pills over to Will. His heartbeat is even, but his eyes are greedy, drinking Will in.

Will takes it without hesitation, swallowing it dry. He only needs to take it for four more days.

Hannibal recognizes that he should feel guilty. He doesn't.

*

Hannibal watches Will carefully over the course of five days. Everyday, Will takes the little white pill with no fail and no complaint.

There are no major side effects, and Hannibal doesn't pat himself on the back for it simply because it's just things going according to plan.

The side effects that Will does experience are minor, and Hannibal admits he isn't sure how much is because of the Clomid, and how much is because of Will's mild cold. It's an unfortunate consequence of having Will take the pills while he's sick, but it was the most convenient way to sneak the pills.

The headaches and nausea—whether Clomid-induced or from Will's cold—Hannibal helps soothe, bringing him soup reminiscent of their earlier days. Will eats it with only mild teasing, so accepting of Hannibal's pampering.

Will's chest starts to ache on the third day, and this, Hannibal is sure is because of the Clomid. It's a source of pleasure from them both, though, the tenderness and sensitivity enough to get Will squirming and panting on his lap from nipple stimulation alone.

"Oh, god," Will groans, fingers tugging the back of Hannibal's head as he alternatively presses Hannibal closer to his chest, and away. "I'm so fucking sensitive, I don't understand."

Hannibal nips at a nipple and Will shudders, crying out as he orgasms. Hannibal holds him through it, his mouth still latched onto Will's tender chest. He hadn't even needed to touch Will's cock.

On Will's fourth day on Clomid, Hannibal wakes in the middle of the night when Will throws off the blanket. He turns toward his lover, eyes critical. Will's face is flushed, sweat beading at his temple, and he looks uncomfortable as he drags his hand over his face.

Hannibal shifts, reaching over to cup his face. Will's warm underneath his palm, his skin clammy with sweat. He slides his hand down to Will's neck, feeling for his pulse and idly counts it. It's elevated, rabbit quick against his fingers, and Hannibal hums.

"It's so hot," Will murmurs, groggy, still half-asleep. He shifts, groaning, and Hannibal does his best to soothe him.

"You're alright," Hannibal tells him calmly. He pats Will's cheek, stroking over the scar that mars his skin. It's not a fever. Hot flashes are a common side-effect of Clomid, nothing dangerous.

Still, he stays up. He doesn't sleep until Will settles, the red flush of his cheeks fading as his eyes fully close once more. As the sweat dries on his skin and the hot flash fades, Will starts to shiver, chilled now.

Hannibal pulls him in close and keeps him warm.

*

It takes around 7 to 9 days after the completion of Clomid treatment for ovulation to occur.

It's only four days after Will takes the last Clomid pill before his scent changes, and Hannibal starts to notice the pre-Heat symptoms. Will doesn't seem to realize it, not yet, not even as he grows snappish and unwilling to be touched.

Will bares his pretty little teeth at Hannibal when he tries to kiss him good morning, and Hannibal only raises an eyebrow before he slides a hand around the back of Will's neck and squeezes.

Will's eyes flutter, a soft sound escaping him, before he melts into Hannibal's touch. He leans forward to nuzzle into Hannibal's stomach, a wordless apology that Hannibal accepts with a gentle hand in his hair.

"Sorry," Will mumbles into his shirt, face still pressed against Hannibal's abdomen. "I don't know what's gotten into me. Everything makes me so irritated."

Will's embarrassment and self-awareness at his own behavior doesn't stop him from wrinkling his nose as Hannibal puts down a plate in front of him for dinner. His eyebrows are furrowed in upset, his bottom lip sticking out.

"Is there something wrong?" Hannibal asks, tone bland, and Will looks up from the plate.

"No," Will says clearly, and picks up his utensils to eat. He doesn't complain, but Hannibal can tell that he'd rather be eating something else. It only hurts his ego a little bit, the rudeness easily dismissed with the knowledge Hannibal has and isn't sharing. Omegas tend to crave sweeter things near their Heat, and Hannibal compensates by bringing out a dessert meant to satisfy Will's emerging sweet tooth.

It's too sweet for him, but the sight of Will heartily enjoying it is enough to sate him.

Will is forgiven when the next day, Hannibal finds himself unable to walk around without Will trailing after him.

Will looks confused at his own actions, even as he latches onto Hannibal’s sleeve. Hannibal smiles at him and Will gives him a puzzled, twitchy smile back in return he seems to force himself to let go. His instincts must be warring at him to keep his Alpha close and in the line of sight, and Hannibal understands it must be confusing if a Heat is the last thing Will is expecting right now.

It's only a matter of time now. Hannibal just needs to wait a little bit more.

*

The anticipation breaks only two days later.

Hannibal is sitting down on their couch, idly reading while he breathes through his mouth. Will's scent has only gotten stronger over the past few days, thick enough that Hannibal can taste it at the back of his throat. He smells achingly fertile, and Hannibal is sure that by now, Will must at least have his suspicions on what's happening to his own body.

His mate walks into their living room, and Hannibal knows it by his scent. There's a tinge of something else in it, almost sour. Fear, but not quite.

He lifts his head and opens his arms to Will as he folds himself into Hannibal's lap. Hannibal scents him, rubbing his nose along Will's hairline, reaching up to Will's hands as Will clutches onto the front of his shirt.

"Darling?" he asks, all careful concern. Will buries his nose into Hannibal's neck and inhales. He moans, loud and jarring and Hannibal can feel his cock swell in response. His heartbeat picks up, his eyes dilating.

"You smell so good," Will mumbles. Hannibal tilts his head, lets Will mouth aimlessly at his scent glands, the scrape of his teeth arousing and igniting a fire in Hannibal. "I need you."

"Will." Hannibal strokes the back of his head. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," Will moans. He clutches harder onto Hannibal, his hips starting to rock back and forth, blessed friction over Hannibal's covered cock. Hannibal's moves his hand, his grip tight on Will's hips, and thrusts over Will's thin pants.

Will shudders in his arms, all confused pleasure. His confusion doesn't stop him from rutting against Hannibal, even as he pants helplessly into Hannibal's neck.

"I don't understand what's happening," Will whispers to him, his nails digging into Hannibal's shoulders like an anchor. The scent of his distress is sharp, adding an enticing flavor to his fevered perfume. The taste of it on the back of his tongue is even better. Hannibal has always enjoyed Will in pain, in joy, in everything Will, Will, Will.

Will’s distress makes him want to comfort and heal, that base Alpha part of him that Hannibal logically recognizes. It’s interesting when Hannibal knows he’s to blame for it, and yet his instincts still want him to soothe and hold Will close.

"Hannibal," Will says, voice cracking and hushed. His hands tighten on Hannibal's shirt. "It feels like I'm going into heat."

"It smells like it," Hannibal tells him truthfully, and Will immediately shakes his head. His back arches, even encased as it is in Hannibal's arms, and he lets out a plaintive whimper.

"That's impossible—I can't, it's, it's too soon, it's too early," Will denies, tripping over his words. His tongue sounds thick in his mouth. Hannibal wants to suck it into his own.

"Shh, it's alright," Hannibal soothes, sliding one hand down Will's back, to the start of his sweatpants. Will bares his teeth in warning, his hips twitching; Hannibal can feel his canines dig into the skin of his neck. He gentles him, keeps his other hand on the back of Will's head to stroke and press at the pressure points there, to keep Will's nose tucked against his scent glands so Will can inhale the comfort of his Alpha mate's scent.

Hannibal slides his hand into Will's pants, dipping into the cleft of his ass until he can press a finger into Will's hole. Will clenches at his gentle touch. He's hot and wet. The kind of slick that Omegas only get when they're in Heat, copious and already dripping onto Hannibal's hand.

"You're so wet for me, darling," Hannibal murmurs into Will's ear. He hides his smile in the skin behind Will's ear, nuzzling into it. "Yes. I think you're in Heat."

"How?" Will gasps, nudging his hole onto Hannibal's finger, moaning in relief when it sinks in. "It isn't supposed to be for another two months."

"There are plenty of reasons." Hannibal won't do him the disservice of lying. Will did say he preferred sins of omission.

Hannibal slips in another finger, crooking them to rub at the nub of Will's prostate. Will groans and presses his body even closer to Hannibal's, rubbing against him in a fast-approaching, delirious pleasure. His cock is hard where it's pressed against Hannibal's. The little, circular movements of his hips are tempting Hannibal to just strip him and make Will ride his knot.

"We're not prepared," Will says, but it's a token statement. He's beginning to sound like he doesn't care at all. His voice is breathy, hot and wet where his mouth is still pressed against Hannibal's skin. "Food, water—god, Hannibal, birth control, we don't have anything for my heat."

"It's alright," Hannibal murmurs, lifting Will up so he can yank Will's sweatpants down lower, baring his ass. He reaches down to pull out his own cock, rubs it with his hand wet with Will's slick.

"Hannibal," Will moans, low and long and desperate. His nails are sharp where they're digging into Hannibal's skin, his fierce boy.

"Don't worry," Hannibal promises. "I'll take care of everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what i find interesting with hannibal is that he can be so cruel and so kind in equal measure. he does all these horrible things with little regret, and yet he genuinely cares as well.
> 
> also.... the wordcount kind of got away from me. this was supposed to be a twoshot, but my expected chapter count is now at 4 lmao.

**Author's Note:**

> this chapter is pretty mild, but next chapter is when it goes deep into the noncon impreg lol.
> 
> this fic was basically an excuse for me to simultaneously indulge in ALLLLL my omegaverse pregnancy headcanons and also my impregnation kink into one single fic hmmMMmMmmMm. did i maybe go into TOO much detail?? maybe so. do i care??? ....a little, yeah.
> 
> lol anyway have some omegaverse science. it's totally accurate. (but really, the stuff about birth control and fertility is more or less accurate, if adjusted a little for the sake of artistic license, and made up in the case of omegas.)


End file.
